“Let me see her in that one.”
Brianna looked at the price tag and gasped. David ignored her. Though he hadn’t yet told her, they’d be taking the train home to No Name, and he’d be pickled like baby cucumbers if he allowed his wife to be scorned by other female passengers. Hell, maybe he’d even buy her a bonnet all decked out with silly ornaments. Fake birds were the current rage, with feathers going every which way. He wanted her to look wonderful when he presented her to his family. His ma was a fine lady and put a lot of stock in dressing well. Dory would box his ears if his wife wore rags that were about to pop at the seams.
David came across a shimmery brown silk. When he held the dress up to the light, he caught flashes of green, bronze, and red as he twisted the hanger. Perfect. Looked at straight on, the dress was an unassuming brown, but on Brianna, it would be pure decadence, highlighting the red flashes in her hair and the deep green of her eyes, and offsetting her ivory skin with the touches of bronze. He tossed that one on the case as well.
And then he came across a deep gold day dress with capped sleeves, a low décolletage studded with emerald beads, and a waist sashed with shimmery jade silk. She’d look like a sultry angel in it. With a flick of his wrist, it joined the pile.
David figured he had probably offended Brianna’s delicate sensibilities enough, so he went outside to collect his daughter. After a spit bath, he judged her to be passable for a dress shop. Once inside, Daphne instantly became his ally, oohing over this and applauding that. David saw Brianna’s shoulders slump and smothered a grin. Victory had a nice taste, but nothing, he thought sourly, could ever compare to the honey of Brianna’s mouth, brief though his savoring of it had been. He wanted to sneak another quick kiss. Then she stepped out in the brown silk, her breasts plumping up like mounds of whipped cream over the scoop neckline. He forgot all about her lips, and his mouth went dry. On her, the dress went from ordinary to astounding, a shimmery rainbow of subdued color and lightning. His manhood went instantly hard.
He sat on one of the two chairs against the wall, settled a boot on his knee, and flipped his duster over his crotch, not wanting his daughter to see him in such dire straits. Brianna was enough to drive any man over the edge.
An hour and a half later, Brianna left the shop with the emerald green gown, which had quickly been tucked, tightened and let out where needed, and altered with a bit of black eyelet across the low neckline. In the sacks David carried were underclothes, three changes in all, the memory of which made his mouth water. Picturing Brianna in lacy underthings was nearly his undoing. Trudging beside him, she still wore her rags, but over them a new black cloak of fine wool rode her slender shoulders, its folds encasing her body to protect her from the wind, which had grown cool with the late afternoon. They’d pick up the other dresses tomorrow.
David assessed the two hotels and led his little tribe toward the newer looking of the two. At the desk, he signed in, ordered three hot baths, two snack plates for one room, one for his, beverages for his girls, and a fifth of Irish whiskey for himself, plus two cigars. While he soaked up to his chin in hot water, he meant to indulge in booze and smokes. He ignored the censorious spark in Brianna’s eyes. She could go whistle Dixie and learn from experience that he wouldn’t get roaring drunk, that he’d wash off the stench of the cigars and present himself at dinner sober and smelling nice. In the meanwhile, he would enjoy a manly bath. She and Daphne could do the female version. To that end, he ordered scented bath salts, leaving Brianna to choose what she wanted. She looked so startled at first by the suggestion, and then so troubled by the choices offered her, that he suspected she’d never used bath salts or oils.
She finally settled on a rose scent. David loved roses, and imagining her in that emerald green gown, smelling like a rose garden, made him go hard again. Jesus, he was in trouble. She wasn’t ready for any advances from him. Maybe she’d never be. He needed to get his head screwed on straight or he’d come in his trousers during supper.
After her bath, which had been so luxurious she’d never wanted it to end, Brianna got dressed. Daphne, already scrubbed clean and wearing her new store-bought clothing, sat on the bed, oohing over Brianna’s lacy underclothes and then clapping her hands when Brianna donned the emerald gown.
“Can you do me up in back?” Brianna asked.
Daphne stood on the bed to fasten all the buttons; then she sighed as Brianna stepped away. “Oh, Mama, you look like a princess!”
Brianna felt a bit like royalty. A hotel employee had already taken their soiled clothing downstairs for laundering with a promise that everything would be returned before checkout time at eleven the next morning. She was unaccustomed to being catered to. It felt decadent.
Smoothing a hand over the green silk, she smiled at her daughter. “I’ve never possessed anything this fine. I still can’t believe he spent so much money!”
Nibbling her lip, Brianna wondered how she would ever pay David back. The day would come when she’d have to settle up with him. The thought dampened her mood considerably. He had started to grow on her in more ways than she cared to count. The way he sat a horse. The cocky tilt of his hat brim. The scruff of whiskers that appeared each afternoon even though he shaved of an evening. The slash that creased his cheek when he grinned. The way his blue eyes warmed and started to twinkle before any hint of a smile touched his mouth, and how lines appeared at its corners when he gazed off into the distance. And, oh, how it touched her heart to watch him with Daphne as he taught her string tricks at night by the fire, ruffling her hair when she grew frustrated, and playing his fiddle to distract her when she was frightened by coyotes.
Last night, he’d risked his life to protect them. And for the first time since leaving the orphanage, Brianna felt safe, no longer a woman alone in the world with no champion to defend her. It was such a comforting feeling, and when their so-called marriage ended, she would miss it.
Stuff and nonsense, she chided herself as she stepped over to the mirror to check her hair. Would David think she looked pretty? The thought no sooner zipped through her mind than Brianna wanted to give herself a good, hard shake. Why should she want David to think she was pretty? The man had turned her life upside down, and he could still take Daphne away from her. Even worse, when he finally realized the truth, that he wasn’t Daphne’s sire, he would promptly wash his hands of them. She couldn’t allow herself to have these feelings. Only a foolish woman walked down such a thorny path, knowing that heartbreak waited at its end.
A light tap came at the door. Daphne bounced off the bed to answer the summons. David poked his head into the room, his blond hair still damp from his bath. He wore blue jeans with a just-off-the-shelf crease in each leg, a white shirt, and his boots, which appeared to have been wiped clean with a wet cloth. His badge winked above his left breast pocket. The Colts rode his hips, the wooden grips gleaming in the lantern light.
To Daphne, he said, “Never open the door without asking who’s there. It isn’t safe.” Then he shifted his gaze to Brianna. “Well, now, don’t you look prettier than sunrise, sunset, and everything betwixt and between.”
Brianna thought he looked awfully nice, too. She recalled the first time she’d seen him, how intimidating he had seemed to her then. Now he made her feel a host of different emotions, but fear wasn’t one of them. He moved his gaze slowly over her; then, as if realizing a beat late that he was staring, he looked at Daphne.
“Am I a lucky fellow or what? Not every man receives the honor of escorting two of the prettiest ladies in the world downstairs for a sit-down supper.” He caught hold of Daphne’s hand and offered Brianna his arm. “You ready?”
Brianna left the lamp low. Fishing the room key from her skirt pocket, she tucked her hand over his bent arm and stepped out into the hallway with him. Daphne was so excited she was dancing on her tiptoes.
“I’ve never had a sit-down supper in a restaurant,” she cried.
David locked the door for Brianna and sli
pped the key into his trouser pocket. Brianna took his arm again as they walked along the hallway. At the landing, Daphne fell in behind them to go down the stairs. Brianna felt unaccountably tense. She assured herself it was because she’d only ever worked in a restaurant and had never been a patron, but deep down, she knew her nerves were leaping because of the man beside her. He made her feel feminine and beautiful.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turned right toward the eating establishment, which adjoined the hotel lobby. The wonderful smells coming from the kitchen made her stomach growl. Startled, she touched a hand to her waist as a flare of heat crept up her neck. David didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed Daphne’s hand again and said, “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’m so hungry, I could eat the south end of a northbound jackass.”
Caught off guard, Brianna giggled before she could swallow it back. “Mr. Paxton, pray mind your manners.”
He flashed an irreverent grin. “You worry too much about manners, Shamrock. Relax and have fun for once.”
Refusing to have fun with David was nearly impossible. He was becoming more difficult to resist with each passing moment. He selected a round table near the bank of front windows. With a flourish, he seated Brianna first, and then, with equal fanfare, he pulled out a chair for Daphne. The child stared with round eyes at the artfully folded napkin that held court at the center of her place setting. She fingered the white linen tablecloth as if it were made of spun gold. David took a seat between them and signaled the waitress, a plump woman in a blue day dress with capped sleeves and an out-of-fashion bustle that ballooned behind her.
“What can I get you, mister?”
David winked at Daphne. “This is my daughter’s first sit-down supper in a restaurant, so I’d like it to be special. She’ll have a chilled sarsaparilla in a wine goblet as her before-supper drink. My wife and I will share a bottle of wine if you have any.”
The woman smiled. “We have a nice red. Customers say it’s quite good.”
David nodded. “And what do you have by way of whore dervies?”
Brianna, in the process of taking a sip from her water glass, nearly choked.
“We have fresh fried potato chips with a mayonnaise dip and we also offer a relish plate.”
“We’ll have both,” David said. “We’ll munch on those while we look at the menu.”
“Our special tonight is fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, sweet peas, and a green salad. Hot bread fresh from the oven is served on the side with sweet cream butter—or if you’d rather, you can ask for biscuits.”
David glanced at Brianna. “That sounds wonderful,” she told him.
Daphne piped in with, “I haven’t had fried chicken in a long, long time.”
With a grin, David said, “No menus are necessary, I reckon. The special sounds good to me, too.”
Gazing over at him, Brianna realized that though he was still the most rugged, dangerous-looking man she’d ever met, he was also unnervingly appealing. The warmth of his smile, the deep drone of his voice, the enticing scent of his bay-rum facial invigorator—everything about him played upon her senses.
Daphne was a chatterbox all during the meal, raving about the potato chips, her wineglass, and then her supper, which she claimed was the best she’d ever tasted. David insisted that the child have a tall glass of milk, and while waving her hands as she talked, Daphne sent the tumbler flying. Before Brianna could react to stop the flow with her napkin, white liquid spilled across the tablecloth and funneled down a drape in the linen directly onto David’s lap. She was aghast.
“Oh, dear heaven!” Brianna skirted the table to mop frantically at his lap. “Brand new jeans, and now they’re soaked.” She turned a censorious gaze on Daphne. “You have been taught better, young lady. For shame, bouncing about on your chair and waving your arms at the table!” Dab, swipe, dab. David’s trousers were ruined. “I’ve a good mind to box your—” Brianna felt a hard rodlike swell beneath the now drenched napkin and froze with her hand cupped over it. “Oh. I’m sorry!” She jerked the sopped linen away. “Pardon me. I didn’t mean to—”
David met her startled gaze and winked at her, his blue eyes dancing with mischief. “I can’t recall ever having enjoyed a spilled glass of milk quite this much. You can mop me up all you want.”
Brianna straightened her spine and turned toward her chair, only to bump into the buxom waitress, who’d come running with a towel. They both tried to circle, but in the same direction, and collided once again. Brianna’s dignity had suffered a severe blow by the time she collected herself and resumed her seat. The waitress, wiser than Brianna, handed David the towel to dab his wet lap by himself.
“Thank you,” he told her as he returned the crumpled linen. “Another glass of milk for my daughter, please.”
As the waitress walked away, Brianna drilled Daphne with her gaze. “And you shan’t behave like an ill-mannered street waif and spill this one. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
Daphne’s eyes went bright with tears. “I didn’t mean to knock it over, Mama. It was an unfortunate accident.”
Just then a pea struck Daphne’s cheek. She jumped as if she’d just been hit by a bullet. Both she and Brianna turned startled gazes on David, who had his fork poised for another volley. “That’ll teach you to dump your milk in my lap. I don’t get mad; I just get even.” With a flip of the tined flatware, he nailed the child again. This time the projectile struck the tip of Daphne’s nose. “You just gonna sit there and take that, or are you going to fire back?”
Daphne’s cheek dimpled in an impish grin and she grabbed her fork, balanced a pea on the tines, and fired away. Brianna gasped. David laughed when the pea splatted his white shirt and left a green smudge.
“Ho!” he said with a deep, vibrant laugh. “You’re going to get it now!”
Brianna compressed her lips and watched in mounting horror as little green projectiles flew back and forth. “You are making a terrible mess!” she cried. “We’ll be asked to leave!” Her objection earned her a pea in the face, launched at her from David’s fork. “David Paxton, I swear, you’re the most imposs—”
Another pea hit her on the neck and rolled down into the valley between her breasts. Face burning with mortification and no small amount of outrage, Brianna dipped her fingers under the insert of black eyelet and plucked the squishy thing out. When she had the pea between thumb and forefinger, temper overcame her good sense, and she threw it at David, hitting him dead center on the forehead.
He looked so startled that she snorted with laughter—actually snorted. Where were Sister Theresa and her ruler? This was no way for a lady to behave in a restaurant. Only two other tables were occupied, but the other customers had to be gaping at them.
“I have never, in all my days, been so embarrassed,” she whispered.
David’s response was to launch another pea at her. The absurdity of it was too much. Brianna snorted again, and then went for her fork to fire back. Soon Daphne was chortling, David was chuckling, and Brianna found herself laughing so hard her sides ached.
When they finally ran out of peas, she sank weakly back on her chair, feeling dazed and more than a little incredulous. She couldn’t recall ever having had such a good time. “Now what?” she asked him, her voice faint from the drain of unbridled hilarity. “There are peas everywhere.”
David settled back and silently toasted her with his glass of wine. As he took a sip, he frowned. A pea floated on the surface. He fished it out with his spoon. “The waitress will clean up the mess. I’ll be sure to leave a hefty gratuity.”
That was his answer? They’d all just behaved like orangutans that had escaped from a city zoo. “Such deplorable shenanigans are unacceptable in a public place,” Brianna told him, trying to regain some semblance of dignity. “Is this how you want our daughter to act in an eating establishment? We are duty bound to teach her better.”
“We’re also duty bound to show her how to have a good time
.” He winked at Daphne. “Don’t forget your milk, and make sure to get it inside of you this time.”
Daphne grabbed her glass and took several gulps. Her big smile was ringed with white. Brianna was about to scold when the child daintily wiped her mouth with her napkin. “I’m sorry if we embarrassed you, Mama.”
“Your mama can do with a little embarrassment,” David said. “She places far too much importance on manners and not enough on joviality. We all had fun, it was a great supper, and my jeans will dry. No harm done.”
After Daphne finished her milk, David signaled for his tab. The waitress picked her way through the peas on the floor to bring it to him. “Sorry about the mess. We got a little carried away.” David lifted a hip to fish in his jeans for his money, then gave Brianna a look filled with humor. “You’ve got my clip.”
“Oh.” Brianna reached into the pocket of her skirt, found the roll of bills, and handed it over.
David peeled off enough certificates to cover the bill and then topped it with a dollar. “To make up for the extra work we’ve caused you. I do apologize for the mess.”
The waitress gave him a wide-eyed look. “That’s very generous of you, sir. Thank you so much.”
Brianna studied her daughter, whose cheeks had gone rosy. It had been far too long since Brianna had heard her daughter laugh with such abandon. It was a special gift, she realized, all wrapped up in a bow and presented to her by a charming desperado whose badge had winked at her every time he flipped a pea at the child.
He pushed up from his chair. “Ladies, I think we’ve done all the damage we can for one night.” He helped Brianna scoot back her chair and then offered her his arm. “We’re all due for a good night’s sleep, I think.”